


Should've Turned Left

by zarahjoyce



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Confused!Jon, Crack Fic, F/M, Idiot!Jon, Idiots failing Geography, confused!Sansa, idek, jumping on that trope now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 12:00:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20081854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarahjoyce/pseuds/zarahjoyce
Summary: "I wish to speak to her," he firmly insists. "Tell the Lady Sansa--""The Queen," the guard emphasizes as if Jon's a particularly imbecilic sort of man, "--will not receive visitors, even traitorous cousins such asyou."Jon clenches his jaw. Before stopping to think about how little the soldier's words made sense, he steps closer and snarls, "I am yourKing."The other intervenes by pointing his sword at Jon and loudly proclaiming, "We know no King in the North - except its Queen whose name is Stark."Jon's about to reach for Longclaw when the door to the solar swings open, and out comes Sansa - who goes stock still when she sees him."--Jon?" she whispers.-aka Jon gets lost so hard he travels forward in time becauseof course he does.





	Should've Turned Left

* * *

He should've turned left when he had the chance, Jon thinks to himself, grimacing.

That way, he might have missed the sudden blizzard that has caught him by surprise.

He might have even remained close to his traveling companions, not separated from them as he is now.

He might have not been lost, by his lonesome, in a territory frighteningly familiar yet foreign to him due to his... fucking _poor sense of direction._

Jon's grimace turns into a deep scowl as, not for the first time does he wish:

He should've listened better to Maester Luwin's teachings about fucking geography when he had the chance.

* * *

His horse is nearing death on its hooves when Jon's given a reprieve--

\--in the form of Winterfell's imposing figure materializing some distance away from him.

He swings off his horse to lessen its burden and pulls it slowly behind him.

He hasn't come across Ser Davos or the others in his travels, he realizes now. Perhaps the others have found their way back to Winterfell as well?

Or perhaps the blizzard had caught them as unprepared as he had been, and now they were--

Jon shakes his head to clear it.

There's only one way to find out.

* * *

Sansa, he thinks, as he makes his way to her solar, will not be pleased to see him back so early.

Or perhaps she _will _be, given her own reluctance to let him leave, at first.

Then again, she probably _will not be_, given that he has lost Ser Davos and the others even _before _he's reached his destination. He's confirmed that they have not returned as he did soon as he steps foot in Winterfell - though he's also given odd - even somewhat _murderous _looks - in response to his questions.

In fact, the same type of looks are bestowed upon him everywhere he goes - a stark difference to how they have deferred to him before he left.

He _is _their King, after all.

Just as he turns to enter the solar, two soldiers standing guard in front of it immediately block his attempt.

"The Queen doesn't wish to see anyone right now," one of them informs him loftily.

Jon frowns. He _did _indeed leave Winterfell in Sansa's hand, but for her to call herself its Queen?

It isn't at all proper, and she, of all people, _should _know this.

"I wish to speak to her," he firmly insists. "Tell the Lady Sansa--"

"_The Queen," _the guard emphasizes as if Jon's a particularly imbecilic sort of man, "--will _not _receive visitors, even traitorous cousins such _as you." _

Jon clenches his jaw. Before stopping to think about how little the soldier's words made sense, he steps closer and snarls, "I am your _King_."

The other intervenes by pointing his sword at Jon and loudly proclaiming, "We know no King in the North - except its Queen whose name is Stark."

Jon's about to reach for Longclaw when the door to the solar swings open, and out comes Sansa - who goes stock still when she sees him.

"--Jon?" she whispers.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" she demands, closing the door behind him as he enters the solar. "I thought-- you never gave word that you are coming. I should have--"

"Gave word of my coming?" he asks, pulling at his mouth, feeling more and more frustrated by these turn of events. First he gets lost on the way to fucking Dragonstone and now-- "Am I not allowed to go back to Winterfell anymore?"

Sansa looks stricken soon as she hears the words. "No, of course not, Jon. Winterfell is _your home_." She reaches for his hand to squeeze it. "Whether you treat it as such or not, it will _forever _be your home."

The way she says those words... something isn't right. "I sure hope so," Jon says, looking at their entwined hands before meeting her eyes. "I _am _traveling to Dragonstone in order to save it and the entirety of the North, after all." There's a gentle teasing in his tone there, which he hopes she can detect despite the oddness of their conversation.

Except she doesn't. Sansa openly frowns at him. "--Dragonstone again?" she asks, a hint of steel in her tone and expression. "Whatever for?"

"Again?" he repeats. "Sansa, I've _never_\--"

Her voice shakes as she says, "May I remind you that your Targaryen Queen is long _dead_\--"

"Daenerys?" he asks, thoroughly confused now. "Have you received word that she _is _when I left?"

Sansa looks at him for a long moment. "No, Jon," she says quietly. With great effort she adds, "You-- you _killed _her."

Silence.

Then Jon erupts. "_What?_" he exclaims, grabbing her arms. "_What _are you talking about? _What _are you saying? I've never--" He lets her go before walking away from her. Taking a deep breath he says, "You're not making any sense. _None _of these things make any fucking sense!"

Then he gets the hysterical urge to laugh - and so, he _does_. "I get fucking lost on the way to Dragonstone and I come back to Winterfell to people calling you their Queen _and _you telling me that I've killed the only hope we ever have of defeating the White Walkers--"

This time, it's Sansa who's grabbing his arm. "Jon!" she says, shaking him. "The White Walkers have ceased to be a threat to us some years ago! _What are you saying?_"

"I'm saying that I was traveling to Dragonstone to talk to Daenerys Targaryen and get her fucking dragons to come fight for us, Sansa! I'm saying that on the way there I got lost, and that somehow--"

She cups his face in her hands, her eyes wild and wide as she regards him. "You mean to tell me that you... haven't seen or talked to Daenerys yet? You don't remember?"

Being this close to her, he finds it difficult to breathe, for some reason. "How can I remember something that hasn't happened yet?"

Breath escapes from her lips and he feels its puff against his own mouth. "It has, Jon," she whispers. "It already _did_."

She lets him go, and he feels the cold more starkly than before.

"We have _much _to talk about," Sansa says, in a tone of voice that makes him feel as though he wouldn't like what she's about to tell him.

Turns out, he's right.

...he should've turned left earlier when he had the fucking chance.


End file.
